To the Soldier
by Toadflame
Summary: Superhero work is not unlike the job of a soldier, just on a different front.


To the Soldier

_Summary:_ _Superhero work is not unlike the job of a soldier, just on a different front._

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**Warnings: Violence, language, alcohol use, indirect mentions of sex, etc.**

**Notes: I quite like this format, actually, so I think I'll keep it unless (until) I find something I like better. I realize that the site has started with the bar thingy at the top, but oh well.**

**Told in a bit of stream-of-consciousness view, so if the format of paragraphs seems odd, that's why. They may be rambly.**

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_Soldier (n): person serving in the military_

_Synonyms: GI, serviceperson, musketeer, air force member, cadet, marine, commando, Green Beret, conscript, enlisted person, warrior, fighter, guard_

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**_Star__ City_, Harper Apartment  
|2 June 2023, 7:00 A.M.**

The sky was white.

That was the first thought that entered Roy's mind as he lay in bed, staring out the window. The day was cloudy, but the sun was reflecting off them brightly, giving the impression the sky was white. The redhead grunted, heaving himself from the bed.

Still in boxers, Roy yawned as he walked down the hallway of the apartment he and his daughter Lian shared. The hallway was short, and soon he was standing in front of his daughter's door.

"Lian!" he called, knocking on the door. "Time to wake up! Last day of school, baby girl."

He listened for a moment, then returned to his room, satisfied that Lian was up and moving. He pulled the closet doors open and took out a black long-sleeved t-shirt. It would be warm for it, but it would hide the bruises across his arms that he couldn't avoid the night before. He also took out a green-striped button down shirt that Wally had given him last Christmas.

After spending ten minutes in the bathroom, he came out looking presentable, the scruff gone from his chin and fully dressed. He grabbed shoes from their spot at the end of his bed, walking back into the hall with them in his hand.

"You'd better be up!" he called, headed for the kitchen. He heard a vague call that could've been a "Yes, Dad!" as he popped two pieces of toast in the toaster, shoes now on his feet. He poured a bowl of Lian's favorite cereal, setting it on the table as the auburn-haired girl slid into the seat.

"Got all your homework?" Roy asked, spreading peanut butter on the lightly toasted bread.

"Yes, Dad."

"Pencils?"

"We're not doing anything today, Dad."

"What about-"

"Dad!" Lian paused in her breakfast to give him a Look. "It's the last day of school. All we're going to do is clean stuff and turn in the last of the homework."

"I know," he said, smiling at her around a mouthful of toast. "I can't help but ask. It's habit, and you've got all summer to break me from it."

Lian smiled brightly at him. "I know," she said. The smile slid off her face. "How bad is it?" she asked.

Roy sighed at her perception. "Not too bad, just a lucky shot right about here." He pointed to a spot on the lower part of his left arm. "I just don't want them to think you're abusing me, baby girl." He gave her a one-armed hug.

Lian didn't look convinced, but she obviously let it drop while she finished her cereal. Roy took her bowl and his plate to the dishwasher, along with the dishes from last night's dinner.

He took his keys from the catch-all bowl, double-checked to make sure Lian had everything, and left for his car to take Lian to school before heading for work.

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**|_Star City  
_****|_2 June 2023, 11:30 P.M._**

Roy, garbed in Red Arrow attire, crouched on the rooftop across the street from a suspected drug drop-off. Oliver had called that he would be running late, and not to do anything until he got there. Lian was safely asleep in the apartment, Wally staying with her. The scarlet speedster didn't need to patrol his city at night, as his Rogues kept daylight hours, but he'd never gotten out of the habit of night-hero hours from his teenage years. All of Roy's current loose ends were tied up.

All that was left was the waiting game.

Idly, he pulled the communicator from his pocket, tossing it from hand to hand. He perched himself on the ledge of the roof, bow beside him, watching the door to the nightclub across the street. The bulky quiver jostled as his arms moved.

Roy wondered about making a call to the apartment. West could wake his daughter up for a minute for him to say goodnight again; it wasn't like she had school or anything. That had finished today, and tomorrow was Saturday anyway. Just as he had made up his mind to do just that, the nightclub door opened. Light spilled into the dark street, and the heavy, **loud** bass echoed into the street.

"We've got you now," Roy whispered, pressing a quick speed dial button on his communicator. Quickly, he sent the number 3 to Ollie, their signal that something was happening and the other was moving in. He shoved the device in a pocket and notched an arrow in the string, drawing it back.

He aimed carefully, ready to release at a moment's notice. The arrow was currently full of fast-expanding foam to trap anybody suspicious in the act. It was easily soluble in water, making it even more desirable to the heroes and even the Star City police. He and Ollie had had multiple offers for the recipe.

It took a couple minutes, during which the song changed from a steady pulsing beat to a slightly erratic, Latin-y tune. A blonde-haired woman tumbled from the doorway, and the sounds of her breathless laughter reached up to Roy. A brunet man followed, deep laugher floating after the woman's giggles. The door closed, cutting the admittedly catchy music off abruptly. The only sound left was the man and the woman, now hidden in darkness, and Roy's own breathing. He eased the bow string back, trying not to let it snap back on him. The arrow was put back into the quiver, both sounds masked by the sounds of the couple below. Slowly, the laughter died, changing to the sound of skin on skin. Roy really didn't want to contemplate how he could still hear that, instead focusing on blocking the noise as he dialed Ollie back.

"It's me," he muttered gruffly. "No, it was just a couple. Yes, I'm sure. No, I'm not going to tell you why I'm sure. Damn pervert," he added, closing the communicator.

Faint murmurs drifted in the still air. It was very quiet, Roy reflected. There weren't even sirens marking the passage of police cars. The club was out-of-the-way, but he privately thought that it was rather ridiculous that nothing was going on. Inside, someone must've turned the volume up, because there was a muffled thumping that sounded suspiciously like bass and percussion.

He looked at the time, sighed, and dialed for Wally's communicator. Something inside him loosened, as if his chest had been caught in a vice that wouldn't leave until he called the most important thing in his life.

"_KF, at your service,"_ a sleepy voice said.

"Can you go wake Lian up for a minute?" Roy asked, hating the plaintive note that entered his voice.

He could imagine the smirk on West's face as the man answered, _"Sure."_ The sound of footsteps came over faintly for a moment, and then a door opened. _"Lian, sweetheart, it's your dad,"_ Wally said, the sound faint over the link. A sound of transfer and the voice Roy wanted to hear came over.

"_Daddy? What's wrong?"_

"Just wanted to hear you, baby," he said truthfully. "It's kinda boring up here, and you make it all better."

"_Flattery will get you nowhere."_ Roy wondered just who taught her to say that. He wouldn't put it past Ollie, Wally, or Dick. Or Dinah. Or even Cheshire; Jade. He brushed the pain that suddenly spread through him at the mention of his wife; he had more important things to worry about.

"Really? That's silly," he said, watching the door to the club open again. The pulsing beat washed into the street. "Hey, Lian, I gotta go, hun. I'll be home in a couple hours, okay?"

"_Okay. Be careful, Daddy. Love you."_

"I always am, baby. Love you too." He ended the call, quickly nocking a foam arrow. The men that came out were bulky, obviously bodyguards. Roy hunkered down behind the parapet as their eyes scanned the street. It might've been dark, but he and Ollie had been after these guys for a while. He wasn't taking any risks.

He chanced a look over. The guards had moved, and there was one at either end of the street. Another stood at the door, and the fourth and final man had disappeared. Roy frowned at that. He hoped Ollie would get there soon; it would be difficult to take out all of the men and get the deal caught at the same time with both of them, let alone if he was alone.

Roy's eyes caught a glimpse of silver from the man by the door. It was on the guy's right hip, closest to the door, and glinted as the door opened. Obviously, a pistol, and he assumed each of the men would likely have one. Now, if only he knew where that fourth one was…

He didn't have time to contemplate it, as whoever had opened the door finally stepped into the patch of light from the nightclub. It wasn't a man, like he and Ollie had assumed; she was a woman, wearing a mid-calf long red dress, slit up the left leg (it was revealed when she turned to talk to the man at the door) and strapless. It looked too formal for a nightclub scene.

Roy didn't stop to think on the logistics of it. The man at the nightclub door was handing a package to the woman, and Roy could see a white powder inside. That was enough for him. Another man had come up, looking rather shifty. He was dressed in a simple white dress shirt and black slacks, with black shoes completing the ensemble. The armpits were dark with sweat, or at least what he could see from the light of the nightclub. The man didn't look comfortable. Roy would fix that.

He took careful aim, then released the arrow.

It hissed through the air, impacting the street between the woman and the guard. It burst, catching all three in red, water-soluble foam. The door remained open, caught in the foam. The guards on either end of the street drew their pistols, looking for the threat.

In the time all that had taken, Roy had released another arrow, this one a flare, into the sky. At the top of its arc, it exploded outward, bathing the street and surrounding rooftops in red light. Roy finally heard the impending sirens of police cars, probably responding to the light.

Roy let loose an arrow with bolos in it to the guard at one end, finding another to send to the other guy. They had been wrapped within seconds of each other. Now to find the final guard.

_Blam_

Roy ducked and rolled, ignoring the stabbing pain in his left shoulder. The bullet had hit as he moved, and he had no doubt it would've been a lethal shot if he had stood still. Instinct had kicked in, feeling a disturbance behind him.

Another shot rang out, this one nicking his right bicep. Roy pulled an arrow back, ignoring the burn in his arm, and released. Bolos hit at close range, knocking the third shot off target. It slammed into the roof next to Roy's head, and he winced at the closeness.

He hung the final guard off the flag post on the fifth floor. The man was making blustery threats, but he no longer had a gun and was tied up. Roy simply rolled his eyes as he left, careful to make his way onto the roof and leave. He pulled an arrow back, hissing as it pulled his new wound, and followed the zip line past the police cars into the dark of an alley.

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**|_Star City, Harper Apartment  
_****|_3 June 2023, 12:02 A.M._**

"You really took a good one here, Roy," Wally said, digging through the mess of blood. "It's really in there deep."

"Yeah, well." Roy hissed as Wally hit a painful spot. "It was point-blank range. I'm surprised it didn't go all the way through."

"That would be kinda difficult; it hit the bone and stuck," Wally informed him, dropping the bullet onto the table. It was bloody and had a few bits of tissue stuck on it. "There's your souvenir for this misadventure. Got a shelf?"

"Ha, ha," Roy snarked back dryly. "Real comedian here, West. Just patch me up; I need to get back out there."

"You told Lian-"

"I said a couple hours; it's been half of one. I'll be back in around two or so. The metas tend to come out to play after midnight. Most stuff before that is drugs and shit."

"Ollie called." Roy groaned. "I told him you were headed home, gunshot wounds. Pretty much what you told me. He told me to keep you here; said you shouldn't be out in your condition."

"I'm not pregnant." Roy glared at the table, picking at the stray end of thread on its spool. "I've worked through worse."

"Roy, there's a point to this." Wally looked at him as he walked around to check the bullet graze. His green eyes bored into Roy's own. "You don't have to. Not anymore. This isn't Steel City, where you were on your own. This is Star, where Ollie's got your back."

Roy glared at the tabletop and didn't say anything. Wally sighed.

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**_Blüdhaven, Dick Grayson's Apartment  
_****|_3 June 2023, 8:50 P.M._**

"Don't you ever think it weird that we don't use doors anymore?" Dick asked rhetorically, holding out an open beer that he'd been about to take a drink from. Roy took it, and Dick went back to the fridge to get another.

"Yeah, that was probably a bad idea." Roy took a long pull, settling himself into a chair. "Do you think your neighbors will mind?"

"If they did, no one would mind them. Most of Blüdhaven's police department is corrupt, and everybody on duty right now will only go out if it's one of their own if someone says it's a police officer's apartment." Dick tossed the bottle cap over his shoulder, unerringly hitting the garbage can. "So what brings you to my corner of the world?"

"I need a little advice."

"Oh, my friend, you don't want my advice." Dick grinned at him over his bottle. "The last time I followed my advice, I ended up here after storming out on Bruce. My advice usually isn't good."

"All right, so maybe an opinion." Roy couldn't help it, he grinned as well. There was just something about Dick that made him smile, no matter what. He was just one of those people. "You **do** still have one of those, don't you?"

"I don't know, maybe those police-types have trained it out of me."

"Yeah, right," Roy snorted. "You not having an opinion is like Wally missing a meal. Doesn't happen."

"Yeah, well…" Dick set his beer bottle on the coffee table, leaning back in his seat and steepling his fingers together like a psychologist. "Speak, young Padawan, and tell me your troubles."

"Ha ha, you're just like West," Roy grumbled. "All right, so the other night, Wally was sitting for Lian, right? Well, I have a couple nice new scars, or what will be scars, and he made a comment that I'm not quite sure how to take." Roy swallowed a mouthful of beer. "He said that I didn't have to go back out and take care of the city, because Ollie was there to do it too. Do you think that's true?"

Dick dropped the pretense, leaning forward and scratching his head. "I'm not the person to answer that," he said. "For one, I don't work with Bruce anymore; haven't since I was a teen. For another, I'm still 'Bruce's little soldier,' as Jason used to call me. For third, I'm kinda alone here in the Haven. Not too many regular vigilantes in Blüdhaven besides Nightwing."

"Doesn't mean that you can't have an opinion on this. I know you do, Dick. Even if you don't want to admit it." Roy leaned forward, trying to get Dick to admit it. "Come on; I need help with this."

It must've been the last sentence that did it. Roy was under no illusions that Dick would have stayed firm unless it hadn't been for the slightly pleading tone of his entreat.

"Fine. You want to know what I think?" Dick picked up his beer bottle, pulling a long drink from it. "I think you're just like me; the good little soldier who has his habits too ingrained in him to do anything else with his life. And just like me, I think you're perfectly happy doing it, as bad as it is for us."

"You're saying I'm a soldier? Dick, I didn't turn in the selective service card in until nearly a year after I turned eighteen; I can't be a soldier."

Dick smiled sadly at him. "There's more than one definition of a soldier. And unfortunately, the pictures next to it are you and me."

_Fin_

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**Reviews appreciated, concrit especially.**


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